A girl approached, no more than six or seven, dark braid swinging behind her, barefoot in the dust. Her hands were cupped together. Rachel adjusted her grip on the camera, tracking the quiet moment as it unfolded.
Ghost caught the movement at the edge of his vision. He pivoted fast, adjusting his rifle without lifting it, just enough to assess, then his posture shifted.
The girl held out a handful of crushed wildflowers. Stems broken. Petals browned from heat.
Ghost crouched down slowly, saying nothing. Just opened one hand.
She placed the flowers in his palm.
Click.
She gave him a shygrin and darted away, her feet slapping the dirt.
He stood again, tucking the wilted bundle behind the strap of his vest carefully. He understood exactly what it meant to be handed something so small and fragile out here.
***
Back near the Humvees, the team was starting to regroup. Medics were packing up. Empty crates were strapped back onto the flatbeds. Engines hummed low in the background, warm from hours in the sun.
Rachel leaned against the side panel, camera in her hands. Her fingers tapped the controls slowly, clicking through the images she’d captured, one frame at a time. She paused on each, adjusting the exposure, cataloging the light, tracking the curve of the day in shadows and sweat and grit.
Predator passed behind her, heading toward the gear trailer. He slowed, then angled a look over her shoulder.
He let out a low grunt. “Damn. That’s clean.”
Rachel glanced up. “What is?”
“That one.” He nodded at the display. “Kid with the chocolate. Eyes full of mischief, mouth full of sugar. You got it just right.”
Before she could say anything, he raised his voice. “Hey! Get over here.”
Brick wasthe first to step in. Torch followed, drying his hands on the hem of his shirt. Frost drifted close, then Reaper. Even Rogue and Echo trailed behind, chewing what looked like the last piece of jerky.
Rachel hesitated, but Predator gestured. “Show ’em.”
So she did.
One by one, she flipped through the series, the kids with chocolate bars, Falcon crouched beside the water drum explaining the filter system, Reaper clearing rubble, Brick handing off a sack of rice with one hand and keeping the other on his weapon, Torch laughing with a kid miming his headset, Predator mid-scan, sun casting hard lines across his face.
They watched quietly. A few muttered comments. Brick pointed at one of himself and grunted, “Didn’t know I looked that serious.”
Reaper gave a single nod. Understood.
Rachel didn’t show the photo of Ghost. She held that one close, thumb hovering over the dial.
Rogue squinted at her. “Where’s Ghost’s?”
She shrugged. “Didn’t think it was… ”
He plucked the camera gently from her hands before she could finish. “Don’t be shy, Parker. We’re all friends here.”
Ghost stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the exchange with that unreadable calm that didn’t fool anyone who knew him. He didn’t step in. Just waited.
Rogue clicked twice.
Then stopped.
The shot filled the screen, Ghost on watch, rifle in hand, one foot braced against the edge of a half-crumbled wall. His expression was hard and focused, every inch of him solid and still against the backdrop of a village full of motion. Light framed him in profile, catching the edge of his brow and the tension in his shoulders. A protector, the team’s anchor.
